Chapter 7
Life is a strange compound. Peterkin used to say of it, that it beat a druggist’s shop all to sticks; for, whereas the first is a compound of good and bad, the other is a horrible compound of all that is utterly detestable. And indeed the more I consider it the more I am struck with the strange mixture of good and evil that exists not only in the material earth but in our own natures. In our own Coral Island we had experienced every variety of good that a bountiful Creator could heap on us.
Yet on the night of the storm we had seen how almost, in our case—and altogether, no doubt, in the case of others less fortunate—all this good might be swept away for ever. We had seen the rich fruit-trees waving in the soft air, the tender herbs shooting upwards under the benign influence of the bright sun; and, the next day, we had seen these good and beautiful trees and plants uprooted by the hurricane, crushed and hurled to the ground in destructive devastation. We had lived for many months in a clime for the most part so beautiful, that we had often wondered whether Adam and Eve had found Eden more sweet; and we had seen the quiet solitudes of our paradise suddenly broken in upon by ferocious savages, and the white sands stained with blood and strewed with lifeless forms; yet, among these cannibals, we had seen many symptoms of a kindly nature. I pondered these things much, and, while I considered them, there recurred to my memory those words which I had read in my Bible—the works of God are wonderful, and His ways past finding out.
After these poor savages had left us, we used to hold long and frequent conversations about them, and I noticed that Peterkin’s manner was now much altered. He did not, indeed, jest less heartily than before, but he did so less frequently, and often there was a tone of deep seriousness in his manner, if not in his words, which made him seem to Jack and me as if he had grown two years older within a few days. But indeed I was not surprised at this, when I reflected on the awful realities which we had witnessed so lately. We could by no means shake off a tendency to gloom for several weeks afterwards; but, as time wore away, our usual good spirits returned somewhat, and we began to think of the visit of the savages with feelings akin to those with which we recall a terrible dream.
One day we were all enjoying ourselves in the Water Garden, preparatory to going on a fishing excursion; for Peterkin had kept us in such constant supply of hogs that we had become quite tired of pork, and desired a change. Peterkin was sunning himself on the ledge of rock, while we were creeping among the rocks below. Happening to look up, I observed Peterkin cutting the most extraordinary capers and making violent gesticulations for us to come up; so I gave Jack a push, and rose immediately.
“A sail! a sail! Ralph, look! Jack, away on the horizon there, just over the entrance to the lagoon!” cried Peterkin, as we scrambled up the rocks.
“So it is, and a schooner, too!” said Jack, as he proceeded hastily to dress.
Our hearts were thrown into a terrible flutter by this discovery, for if it should touch at our island we had no doubt the captain would be happy to give us a passage to some of the civilized islands, where we could find a ship sailing for England, or some other part of Europe.
Home, with all its associations, rushed in upon my heart like a flood, and, much though I loved the Coral Island and the bower which had now been our home so long, I felt that I could have quitted all at that moment without a sigh. With joyful anticipations we hastened to the highest point of rock near our dwelling, and awaited the arrival of the vessel, for we now perceived that she was making straight for the island, under a steady breeze.
In less than an hour she was close to the reef, where she rounded to, and backed her topsails in order to survey the coast.
Seeing this, and fearing that they might not perceive us, we all three waved pieces of cocoa-nut cloth in the air, and soon had the satisfaction of seeing them beginning to lower a boat and bustle about the decks as if they meant to land. Suddenly a flag was run up to the peak, a little cloud of white smoke rose from the schooner’s side, and, before we could guess their intentions, a cannon-shot came crashing through the bushes, carried away several cocoa-nut trees in its passage, and burst in atoms against the cliff a few yards below the spot on which we stood.
With feelings of terror we now observed that the flag at the schooner’s peak was black, with a Death’s head and cross bones upon it. As we gazed at each other in blank amazement, the word “pirate” escaped our lips simultaneously.
“What is to be done?” cried Peterkin, as we observed a boat shoot from the vessel’s side, and make for the entrance of the reef. “If they take us off the island, it will either be to throw us overboard for sport, or to make pirates of us.”
I did not reply, but looked at Jack, as being our only resource in this emergency. He stood with folded arms, and his eyes fixed with a grave, anxious expression on the ground. “There is but one hope,” said he, turning with a sad expression of countenance to Peterkin; “perhaps, after all, we may not have to resort to it. If these villains are anxious to take us, they will soon overrun the whole island. But come, follow me.”
Stopping abruptly in his speech, Jack bounded into the woods, and led us by a circuitous route to Spouting Cliff. Here he halted, and, advancing cautiously to the rocks, glanced over their edge. We were soon by his side, and saw the boat, which was crowded with armed men, just touching the shore. In an instant the crew landed, formed line, and rushed up to our bower.
In a few seconds we saw them hurrying back to the boat, one of them swinging the poor cat round his head by the tail. On reaching the water’s edge, he tossed it far into the sea, and joined his companions, who appeared to be holding a hasty council.
“You see what we may expect,” said Jack bitterly. “The man who will wantonly kill a poor brute for sport will think little of murdering a fellow-creature. Now, boys, we have but one chance left,—the Diamond Cave.”
“The Diamond Cave!” cried Peterkin, “then my chance is a poor one, for I could not dive into it if all the pirates on the Pacific were at my heels.”
“Nay, but,” said I, “we will take you down, Peterkin, if you will only trust us.”
As I spoke, we observed the pirates scatter over the beach, and radiate, as if from a centre, towards the woods and along shore.
“Now, Peterkin,” said Jack, in a solemn tone, “you must make up your mind to do it, or we must make up our minds to die in your company.”
“Oh, Jack, my dear friend,” cried Peterkin, turning pale, “leave me; I don’t believe they’ll think it worth while to kill me. Go, you and Ralph, and dive into the cave.”
“That will not I,” answered Jack quietly, while he picked up a stout cudgel from the ground. “So now, Ralph, we must prepare to meet these fellows. Their motto is, ‘No quarter.’ If we can manage to floor those coming in this direction, we may escape into the woods for a while.”
“There are five of them,” said I, “we have no chance.”
“Come, then,” cried Peterkin, starting up, and grasping Jack convulsively by the arm, “let us dive; I will go.”
Those who are not naturally expert in the water know well the feelings of horror that overwhelm them, when in it, at the bare idea of being held down, even for a few seconds,—that spasmodic, involuntary recoil from compulsory immersion which has no connection whatever with cowardice; and they will understand the amount of resolution that it required in Peterkin to allow himself to be dragged down to a depth of ten feet, and then, through a narrow tunnel, into an almost pitch-dark cavern. But there was no alternative. The pirates had already caught sight of us, and were now within a short distance of the rocks.
Jack and I seized Peterkin by the arms.
“Now, keep quite still, no struggling,” said Jack, “or we are lost.”
Peterkin made no reply, but the stern gravity of his marble features, and the tension of his muscles, satisfied us that he had fully made up his mind to go through with it. Just as the pirates gained the foot of the rocks, which hid us for a moment from their view, we bent over the sea, and plunged down together head foremost. Peterkin behaved like a hero. He floated passively between us like a log of wood, and we passed the tunnel and rose into the cave in a shorter space of time than I had ever done it before.
Peterkin drew a long, deep breath on reaching the surface; and in a few seconds we were all standing on the ledge of rock in safety. Jack now searched for the tinder and torch, which always lay in the cave. He soon found them, and, lighting the torch, revealed to Peterkin’s wondering gaze the marvels of the place. But we were too wet to waste much time in looking about us. Our first care was to take off our clothes, and wring them as dry as we could. This done, we proceeded to examine into the state of our larder, for, as Jack truly remarked, there was no knowing how long the pirates might remain on the island.
“Perhaps,” said Peterkin, “they may take it into their heads to stop here altogether, and so we shall be buried alive in this place.”
“Don’t you think, Peterkin, that it’s the nearest thing to being drowned alive that you ever felt?” said Jack with a smile. “But I’ve no fear of that. These villains never stay long on shore. The sea is their home, so you may depend upon it that they won’t stay more than a day or two at the furthest.”
We now began to make arrangements for spending the night in the cavern. At various periods Jack and I had conveyed cocoa nuts and other fruits, besides rolls of cocoa-nut cloth, to this submarine cave, partly for amusement, and partly from a feeling that we might possibly be driven one day to take shelter here from the savages. Little did we imagine that the first savages who would drive us into it would be white savages, perhaps our own countrymen. We found the cocoa-nuts in good condition, and the cooked yams, but the bread-fruits were spoiled. We also found the cloth where we had left it; and, on opening it out, there proved to be sufficient to make a bed; which was important, as the rock was damp.
Having collected it all together, we spread out our bed, placed our torch in the midst of us, and ate our supper. It was indeed a strange chamber to feast in; and we could not help remarking on the cold, ghastly appearance of the walls, and the black water at our side, with the thick darkness beyond, and the sullen sound of the drops that fell at long intervals from the roof of the cavern into the still water; and the strong contrast between all this and our bed and supper, which, with our faces, were lit up with the deep red flame of the torch.
We sat long over our meal, talking together in subdued voices, for we did not like the dismal echoes that rang through the vault above when we happened to raise them. At last the faint light that came through the opening died away, warning us that it was night and time for rest. We therefore put out our torch and lay down to sleep.
On awaking, it was some time ere we could collect our faculties so as to remember where we were, and we were in much uncertainty as to whether it was early or late. We saw by the faint light that it was day, but could not guess at the hour; so Jack proposed that he should dive out and reconnoitre.
“No, Jack,” said I, “do you rest here. You’ve had enough to do during the last few days. Rest yourself now, and take care of Peterkin, while I go out to see what the pirates are about. I’ll be very careful not to expose myself, and I’ll bring you word again in a short time.”
“Very well, Ralph,” answered Jack, “please yourself, but don’t be long; and if you’ll take my advice you’ll go in your clothes, for I would like to have some fresh cocoa nuts, and climbing trees without clothes is uncomfortable, to say the least of it.”
“The pirates will be sure to keep a sharp lookout,” said Peterkin, “so, pray, be careful.”
“No fear,” said I, “goodbye.”
“Good-bye,” answered my comrades.
And while the words were yet sounding in my ears, I plunged into the water, and in a few seconds found myself in the open air. On rising, I was careful to come up gently and to breathe softly, while I kept close in beside the rocks; but, as I observed no one near me, I crept slowly out, and ascended the cliff a step at a time, till I obtained a full view of the shore. No pirates were to be seen,—even their boat was gone; but as it was possible they might have hidden themselves, I did not venture too boldly forward. Then it occurred to me to look out to sea, when, to my surprise, I saw the pirate schooner sailing away almost hull-down on the horizon! On seeing this I uttered a shout of joy. Then my first impulse was to dive back to tell my companions the good news; but I checked myself, and ran to the top of the cliff, in order to make sure that the vessel I saw was indeed the pirate schooner. I looked long and anxiously at her, and, giving vent to a deep sigh of relief, said aloud, “Yes, there she goes; the villains have been baulked of their prey this time at least.”
“Not so sure of that!” said a deep voice at my side; while, at the same moment, a heavy hand grasped my shoulder, and held it as if in a vice.
My heart seemed to leap into my throat at the words; and, turning round, I beheld a man of immense stature, and fierce aspect regarding me with a smile of contempt. He was a white man,—that is to say, he was a man of European blood, though his face, from long exposure to the weather, was deeply bronzed. His dress was that of a common seaman, except that he had on a Greek skull-cap, and wore a broad shawl of the richest silk round his waist. In this shawl were placed two pair of pistols and a heavy cutlass. He wore a beard and moustache, which, like the locks on his head, were short, curly, and sprinkled with gray hairs.
“So, youngster,” he said, with a Sardonic smile, while I felt his grasp tighten on my shoulder, “the villains have been baulked of their prey, have they? We shall see, we shall see. Now, you whelp, look yonder.” As he spoke, the pirate uttered a shrill whistle. In a second or two it was answered, and the pirate-boat rowed round the point at the Water Garden, and came rapidly towards us. “Now, go, make a fire on that point; and hark’ee, youngster, if you try to run away, I’ll send a quick and sure messenger after you,” and he pointed significantly at his pistols.
I obeyed in silence, and as I happened to have the burning-glass in my pocket, a fire was speedily kindled, and a thick smoke ascended into the air. It had scarcely appeared for two minutes when the boom of a gun rolled over the sea, and, looking up, I saw that the schooner was making for the island again. It now flashed across me that this was a ruse on the part of the pirates, and that they had sent their vessel away, knowing that it would lead us to suppose that they had left altogether. But there was no use of regret now. I was completely in their power, so I stood helplessly beside the pirate watching the crew of the boat as they landed on the beach. For an instant I contemplated rushing over the cliff into the sea, but this I saw I could not now accomplish, as some of the men were already between me and the water.
There was a good deal of jesting at the success of their scheme, as the crew ascended the rocks and addressed the man who had captured me by the title of captain. They were a ferocious set of men, with shaggy beards and scowling brows. All of them were armed with cutlasses and pistols, and their costumes were, with trifling variations, similar to that of the captain. As I looked from one to the other, and observed the low, scowling brows, that never unbent, even when the men laughed, and the mean, rascally expression that sat on each face, I felt that my life hung by a hair.
“But where are the other cubs?” cried one of the men, with an oath that made me shudder. “I’ll swear to it there were three, at least, if not more.”
“You hear what he says, whelp; where are the other dogs?” said the captain.
“If you mean my companions,” said I, in a low voice, “I won’t tell you.”
A loud laugh burst from the crew at this answer.
The pirate captain looked at me in surprise. Then drawing a pistol from his belt, he cocked it and said, “Now, youngster, listen to me. I’ve no time to waste here. If you don’t tell me all you know, I’ll blow your brains out! Where are your comrades?”
For an instant I hesitated, not knowing what to do in this extremity. Suddenly a thought occurred to me.
“Villain,” said I, shaking my clenched fist in his face, “to blow my brains out would make short work of me, and be soon over. Death by drowning is as sure, and the agony prolonged, yet, I tell you to your face, if you were to toss me over yonder cliff into the sea, I would not tell you where my companions are, and I dare you to try me!”
The pirate captain grew white with rage as I spoke. “Say you so?” cried he, uttering a fierce oath. “Here, lads, take him by the legs and heave him in—quick!”
The men, who were utterly silenced with surprise at my audacity, advanced, and seized me, and, as they carried me towards the cliff, I congratulated myself not a little on the success of my scheme, for I knew that once in the water I should be safe, and could rejoin Jack and Peterkin in the cave. But my hopes were suddenly blasted by the captain crying out, “Hold on, lads, hold on. We’ll give him a taste of the thumb-screws before throwing him to the sharks. Away with him into the boat. Look alive! the breeze is freshening.”
The men instantly raised me shoulder high, and, hurrying down the rocks, tossed me into the bottom of the boat, where I lay for some time stunned with the violence of my fall.
On recovering sufficiently to raise myself on my elbow, I perceived that we were already outside the coral reef, and close alongside the schooner, which was of small size and clipper built. I had only time to observe this much, when I received a severe kick on the side from one of the men, who ordered me, in a rough voice, to jump aboard. Rising hastily I clambered up the side. In a few minutes the boat was hoisted on deck, the vessel’s head put close to the wind, and the Coral Island dropped slowly astern as we beat up against a head sea.
Immediately after coming aboard, the crew were too busily engaged in working the ship and getting in the boat to attend to me, so I remained leaning against the bulwarks close to the gangway, watching their operations. I was surprised to find that there were no guns or carronades of any kind in the vessel, which had more of the appearance of a fast-sailing trader than a pirate. But I was struck with the neatness of everything. The brass work of the binnacle and about the tiller, as well as the copper belaying-pins, were as brightly polished as if they had just come from the foundry. The decks were pure white, and smooth. The masts were clean-scraped and varnished, except at the cross-trees and truck, which were painted black. The standing and running rigging was in the most perfect order, and the sails white as snow. In short, everything, from the single narrow red stripe on her low black hull to the trucks on her tapering masts, evinced an amount of care and strict discipline that would have done credit to a ship of the Royal Navy. There was nothing lumbering or unseemly about the vessel, excepting, perhaps, a boat, which lay on the deck with its keel up between the fore and main masts. It seemed disproportionately large for the schooner; but, when I saw that the crew amounted to between thirty and forty men, I concluded that this boat was held in reserve, in case of any accident compelling the crew to desert the vessel.
As I have before said, the costumes of the men were similar to that of the captain. But in head gear they differed not only from him but from each other, some wearing the ordinary straw hat of the merchant service, while others wore cloth caps and red worsted night-caps. I observed that all their arms were sent below; the captain only retaining his cutlass and a single pistol in the folds of his shawl. Although the captain was the tallest and most powerful man in the ship, he did not strikingly excel many of his men in this respect, and the only difference that an ordinary observer would have noticed was, a certain degree of open candour, straightforward daring, in the bold, ferocious expression of his face, which rendered him less repulsive than his low-browed associates, but did not by any means induce the belief that he was a hero. This look was, however, the indication of that spirit which gave him the pre-eminence among the crew of desperadoes who called him captain. He was a lion-like villain; totally devoid of personal fear, and utterly reckless of consequences, and, therefore, a terror to his men, who individually hated him, but unitedly felt it to be their advantage to have him at their head.
But my thoughts soon reverted to the dear companions whom I had left on shore, and as I turned towards the Coral Island, which was now far away to leeward, I sighed deeply, and the tears rolled slowly down my cheeks as I thought that I might never see them more.
“So you’re blubbering, are you, you obstinate whelp?” said the deep voice of the captain, as he came up and gave me a box on the ear that nearly felled me to the deck. “I don’t allow any such weakness aboard of this ship. So clap a stopper on your eyes or I’ll give you something to cry for.”
I flushed with indignation at this rough and cruel treatment, but felt that giving way to anger would only make matters worse, so I made no reply, but took out my handkerchief and dried my eyes.
“I thought you were made of better stuff,” continued the captain, angrily, “I’d rather have a mad bull-dog aboard than a water-eyed puppy. But I’ll cure you, lad, or introduce you to the sharks before long. Now go below, and stay there till I call you.”
As I walked forward to obey, my eye fell on a small keg standing by the side of the main-mast, on which the word gunpowder was written in pencil. It immediately flashed across me that, as we were beating up against the wind, anything floating in the sea would be driven on the reef encircling the Coral Island. I also recollected—for thought is more rapid than the lightning—that my old companions had a pistol. Without a moment’s hesitation, therefore, I lifted the keg from the deck and tossed it into the sea! An exclamation of surprise burst from the captain and some of the men who witnessed this act of mine.
Striding up to me, and uttering fearful imprecations, the captain raised his hand to strike me, while he shouted, “Boy! whelp! what do you mean by that?”
“If you lower your hand,” said I, in a loud voice, while I felt the blood rush to my temples, “I’ll tell you. Until you do so I’m dumb!”
The captain stepped back and regarded me with a look of amazement.
“Now,” continued I, “I threw that keg into the sea because the wind and waves will carry it to my friends on the Coral Island, who happen to have a pistol, but no powder. I hope that it will reach them soon, and my only regret is that the keg was not a bigger one. Moreover, pirate, you said just now that you thought I was made of better stuff! I don’t know what stuff I am made of,—I never thought much about that subject; but I’m quite certain of this, that I am made of such stuff as the like of you shall never tame, though you should do your worst.”
To my surprise the captain, instead of flying into a rage, smiled, and, thrusting his hand into the voluminous shawl that encircled his waist, turned on his heel and walked aft, while I went below.
Here, instead of being rudely handled, as I had expected, the men received me with a shout of laughter, and one of them, patting me on the back, said, “Well done, lad! you’re a brick, and I have no doubt will turn out a rare cove. Bloody Bill, there, was just such a fellow as you are, and he’s now the biggest cut-throat of us all.”
“Take a can of beer, lad,” cried another, “and wet your whistle after that speech of your’n to the captain. If any one of us had made it, youngster, he would have had no whistle to wet by this time.”
“Stop your clapper, Jack,” vociferated a third; “give the boy a chunk of meat. Don’t you see he’s almost going to kick the bucket?”
“And no wonder,” said the first speaker, with an oath, “after the tumble you gave him into the boat. I guess it would have broke your neck if you had got it.”
I did indeed feel somewhat faint; which was owing, doubtless, to the combined effects of ill-usage and hunger; for it will be recollected that I had dived out of the cave that morning before breakfast, and it was now near mid-day. I therefore gladly accepted a plate of boiled pork and a yam, which were handed to me by one of the men from the locker on which some of the crew were seated eating their dinner. But I must add that the zest with which I ate my meal was much abated in consequence of the frightful oaths and the terrible language that flowed from the lips of these godless men, even in the midst of their hilarity and good-humour. The man who had been alluded to as Bloody Bill was seated near me, and I could not help wondering at the moody silence he maintained among his comrades. He did indeed reply to their questions in a careless, off-hand tone, but he never volunteered a remark. The only difference between him and the others was his taciturnity and his size, for he was nearly, if not quite, as large a man as the captain.
During the remainder of the afternoon I was left to my own reflections, which were anything but agreeable, for I could not banish from my mind the threat about the thumb-screws, of the nature and use of which I had a vague but terrible conception. I was still meditating on my unhappy fate when, just after night-fall, one of the watch on deck called down the hatchway—
“Hallo there! one of you, tumble up and light the cabin lamp, and send that boy aft to the captain—sharp!”
“Now then, do you hear, youngster? the captain wants you. Look alive,” said Bloody Bill, raising his huge frame from the locker on which he had been asleep for the last two hours. He sprang up the ladder and I instantly followed him, and, going aft, was shown into the cabin by one of the men, who closed the door after me.
A small silver lamp which hung from a beam threw a dim soft light over the cabin, which was a small apartment, and comfortably but plainly finished. Seated on a camp-stool at the table, and busily engaged in examining a chart of the Pacific, was the captain, who looked up as I entered, and, in a quiet voice, bade me be seated, while he threw down his pencil, and, rising from the table, stretched himself on a sofa at the upper end of the cabin.
“Boy,” said he, looking me full in the face, “what is your name?”
“Ralph Rover,” I replied.
“Where did you come from, and how came you to be on that island? How many companions had you on it? Answer me, now, and mind you tell no lies.”
“I never tell lies,” said I, firmly.
The captain received this reply with a cold sarcastic smile, and bade me answer his questions.
I then told him the history of myself and my companions from the time we sailed till the day of his visit to the island, taking care, however, to make no mention of the Diamond Cave. After I had concluded, he was silent for a few minutes; then, looking up, he said—“Boy, I believe you.”
I was surprised at this remark, for I could not imagine why he should not believe me. However, I made no reply.
“And what,” continued the captain, “makes you think that this schooner is a pirate?”
“The black flag,” said I, “showed me what you are; and if any further proof were wanting I have had it in the brutal treatment I have received at your hands.”
The captain frowned as I spoke, but subduing his anger he continued—“Boy, you are too bold. I admit that we treated you roughly, but that was because you made us lose time and gave us a good deal of trouble. As to the black flag, that is merely a joke that my fellows play off upon people sometimes in order to frighten them. It is their humour, and does no harm. I am no pirate, boy, but a lawful trader—a rough one, I grant you, but one can’t help that in these seas, where there are so many pirates on the water and such murderous blackguards on the land. I carry on a trade in sandal-wood with the Feejee Islands; and if you choose, Ralph, to behave yourself and be a good boy, I’ll take you along with me and give you a good share of the profits. You see I’m in want of an honest boy like you, to look after the cabin and keep the log, and superintend the traffic on shore sometimes. What say you, Ralph, would you like to become a sandal-wood trader?”
I was much surprised by this explanation, and a good deal relieved to find that the vessel, after all, was not a pirate; but instead of replying I said, “If it be as you state, then why did you take me from my island, and why do you not now take me back?”
The captain smiled as he replied, “I took you off in anger, boy, and I’m sorry for it. I would even now take you back, but we are too far away from it. See, there it is,” he added, laying his finger on the chart, “and we are now here—fifty miles at least. It would not be fair to my men to put about now, for they have all an interest in the trade.”
I could make no reply to this; so, after a little more conversation, I agreed to become one of the crew, at least until we could reach some civilized island where I might be put ashore. The captain assented to this proposition, and after thanking him for the promise, I left the cabin and went on deck with feelings that ought to have been lighter, but which were, I could not tell why, marvellously heavy and uncomfortable still.
❒
